Jo's writer's block
by runaway-run
Summary: What if Laurie was the cause of Jo's terrible writer's block? Oneshot.


I wrote this one-shot trying to give vent to my feelings, to feel better because Jo refused Laurie and he married Amy instead. It's nothing special but I thought I'd post it anyway… if there are any grammar mistakes, let me know (English is not my first language, so it's quite difficult to sound like LMA).

Hope you enjoy reading this!

Jo's writer's block 

Lately Jo couldn't write anymore. She had suffered from writer's block before, but this time was different. This time, she couldn't write because when she did, every story, every piece of work seemed to go only in one direction. Every character was modeled after the same person. Every line sounded like something that person would say.

Every adjective reminded her of him, of her boy. Well, Amy's boy really, since they were married, and even that word was not right, since he was a man now.

But Laurie filled every corner of Jo's mind and she didn't know how to replace the memories they shared together, she didn't know how to replace his genuine smile, his glowing eyes, his strong yet delicate hands.

Jo had refused Laurie's proposal and she hated herself for doing that. At the time she'd thought she didn't love him... _So why am I feeling this way now?_ It wasn't fair. She should have felt like that years before... she should have-

"Jo?"

She turned and saw her mother standing there, silently questioning why Jo had been shut all day long in the house: it was so unlike her. "It's useless, I can't write anymore, Marmee!" Jo cried out in frustration.

"Why do you say such a thing?"

Jo couldn't tell her the reason. Mrs. March noticed her daughter's obvious distress and decided she wouldn't insist to know what was upsetting her, but proceeded to comfort Jo with one of her wise speeches. Sensible words, nevertheless, but that couldn't help Jo. What could help Jo was only...

"Laurie's home? I mean, Mr. Laurence?" she was so nervous she couldn't even speak properly and made a fool of herself in front of the servant that had opened the door. He replied affirmatively and let her in.

Jo entered the study where Laurie was distractedly gazing out the window and smiled. The pose he was in looked like the fifteen year old boy she'd met many years before.

"Jo!" he leapt at his feet. "Dear Jo, thanks for rescuing me!"

Jo looked at him suspiciously. "I haven't done anything-"

"Your presence is enough. You're here and a good conversation will help me cheer up. I was so bored..." He sighed and invited her to sit in the armchair.

"Isn't Amy here?"

"No, she went to purchase some new fashionable dress, I think." Laurie muttered, quickly dismissing the subject.

He stared at Jo with that look she knew so well. Lately he'd been doing that a lot, awakening something inside of her, becoming the reason why she couldn't create stories anymore, why she couldn't focus on what she loved the most anymore.

"Laurie..." she looked down. "I don't know how to make it go away."

"What?" he was confused. "Is something wrong?"

Jo shook her head. "I shouldn't have come. Everything's different now, our lives can't be intertwined anymore."

"They'll always be." He stared at her affectionately. "I'll always... always... love-"

"Don't say it!" Jo interrupted him. "If you say it, it will be final, we will not be able to go back!"

"Jo... why did you come here?"

She didn't reply. Laurie added: "Something's troubling you, I can see it. Will you just tell me what it is, please? If I can be of any help, even a little, I'd be glad to lend a hand."

Laurie was looking at her in such a reassuring way that Jo couldn't help but give in. "I can't write because of you, because every sentence becomes somehow connected to you, every character resembles you too much, and it breaks my heart..." Jo paused. "It breaks my heart because I know it won't stop, the only way for that to happen would be..." she didn't dare say it out loud.

Laurie seemed both excited and sullen. "I'm afraid we have a problem here."

Jo suddenly feared he would break their friendship, or what remained of it, but he only said: "Telling Amy won't be easy."

"Telling Amy?"

"Yes, you think I can stay married to her after what you've just told me? Jo, I thought I'd never hear you say those words to me... but now..." he got closer to her, his face only inches from hers. "Are you willing to be with me?"

Jo's voice was a whisper. "I don't want to hurt my sister..."

"Neither do I, but she won't be heartbroken, believe me. She doesn't love me... like I love you. And she knows it."

Jo hesitated. Her rationality had distanced herself from Laurie before, her Laurie. She wasn't going to repeat the same mistake. "Are you still really that fond of me?"

Laurie's kiss was more eloquent than any word. Jo realized nothing had ever felt so right before and hoped she could make up to him for all the time they hadn't spent together. She owed it to her boy.


End file.
